Showtime
by kathlaida-princess
Summary: Your name is John Egbert, and for the last dozen of weeks, you've been revisiting and rebuilding everything you know about your best friend. John/Davesprite. Sequel to Borrowers.


**SHOWTIME**  
**by kathlaida-princess**

Fourth part of this series, sequel to Borrowers. Inspired by Pipeorgankind.

* * *

Your name is John Egbert, and for the last dozen of weeks, you've been revisiting and rebuilding everything you know about your best friend. Most of this knowledge has been obvious and shown to you over the years, but for some reason or other, you have dismissed or buried it, pushed it to a part of your mind you seldom visited, so you could worry about how uneventful your life was before, and how chaotic your birthday became, how relieved you are to have this break, and hide away from everything else.

But not from him, or from everything he makes you feel while you rediscover each other.

The days roll by, as lazy as ever in this ship where nothing happens, and after the both of you decided you wouldn't dance around your feelings anymore and would be completely straightforward to each other, a bunch of small little treasures, small little secrets, have unveiled before you. You think this is the most exposed you will ever see Dave, and the thought is both precious and sad. You drink from the fountain flowing from his broken stoic mask, knowing that when everything is over, you won't ever have a chance like this again.

Little do you know how much you have changed as well, how much you have awakened, how much you are letting spill. But that's okay, you will have time to realize that soon. Whether it will be too late or not, it's up to your interpretation.

In three years, there's more than enough time to go to your planets and spot anything you have missed before, and while Jade unavoidably remains behind, tending to the journey that is still at risk of failing, you show each other places of your life that are seemingly meaningless yet profoundly intimate.

You visit your planet first, and even if he's trying to be subtle about it, keeping quiet and letting his motions talk for him, you notice how he steers you away from the direction where your denizen's palace is, guiding you surely and safely back to your broken home. You notice how he cringes when you immediately decide to take on a bunch of imps on your own, allowing your hammer to dance and shine before you, and you also notice the vague sense of pride in the upward twitch of his lips, the tenderness pooled behind his shades, and the words "Well done, Egbert," have never sounded this rewarding to you.

You giggle and the two of you move on, taking on the rest of the pesky monsters together with sword and hammer, until the Egbert residence comes into view, white walls smeared with oil, shattered glass everywhere and half of its contents pouring from the broken windows and doors. You grimace as you make your way inside, grumbling a few apologies before he starts teasing you about your poor house management, to which you merely narrow your eyes at him and he chuckles.

You clamber upstairs and he's hovering close behind you. From the open windows you see the clouds and the fireflies shimmering with a bluish light, and you inwardly admit that they can't compare to how he glows in his bright orange. The two of you scavenge the house, finding little more than remnants of games and food, and you pile them up in your arms, going back down and out. Your pace is quick, so you don't have to run into imps again, but you still find yourself stopping when you're faced with the mangled carcass of your piano.

Well, you know Rose isn't to blame for this incident, and you wouldn't even think of considering this loss a big deal, when compared with the rest of the problems this game brought already. But you're not going to lie, in these three years of laziness, it would be great to be able to relish in music, especially when you've been blatantly refusing to talk about anything else regarding your birthday. Maybe that's why your eyes linger perhaps too long on the broken instrument, and next thing you know, Dave is nudging your back with the tip of his tail.

"Hey, LOWAS to Egbert. There seems to be a major hold up in your way and I'm pretty curious about what that might be, because all this shitty food ain't getting any lighter," comes his snarky drawl, even if there's a constant tender underline to it now.

It snaps you right out of your trance, and you wish you could say he didn't notice anything, but you are pretty certain his eyes are also trailing over your piano, right before he goes silent and the two of you carry on. He is also not subtle as he hovers next to you, stealing side-glances at your face and pondering on something you can't imagine, something far out of your reach.

When you return to the ship, Jade is already clapping her hands in excitement for the food - but not so much for the games. That's her loss, really, because you can't really complain about your new and awesome loot. You help her with the new meal after throwing the Betty Crocker boxes out, much to her dismay, but all the while Dave is leaning against the wall of this make-shift kitchen, shamelessly studying your movements with knitted brows, arms crossed over his chest. Jade notices this too, and it's with a short array of giggles that she's scampering to him, prodding his side and pointing at the door.

"Mr. Coolkid, now I have no idea what the hell you are trying to do, but you're being silly and John is getting uncomfortable!" she says.

But you immediately reply, defensive, "What! I am not... I mean, what the hell Jade, he's not doing anything wrong..."

Except your tone betrays you, and you can't help but be curious about what this is all about. Dave mumbles to himself as he slides out of the room, onto the ship's deck, and next thing you know both you and Jade are eating in silence, but both sporting the same worry on your faces. Later that day you pass by this very room and catch Jade and Dave talking inside, in whispered, almost concerned voices. You almost barge in and demand to know what the hell is going on, but you decide against it at the last moment. You are in this ship to have a good time and forget all complications. You don't want to hurt him again, and, worst of all, you don't really want to know you are the reason of that hurting.

A few days pass, and this whole thing almost slips from you mind, never to be revisited. This idle time rolls and you try your best to fill it with mindless, mundane tasks, gaming and flying and tending to consorts, that can distract you from more dangerous thoughts, but sometimes the boredom is still too much and everything you have suppressed swims back to the surface of your mind.

Today he's chattering with Jade again, and though you can't hear what they're saying, he sounds almost nervous, lightly fluttering his wings, while she sounds encouraging and cheerful. When they're caught, they immediately stop (wow, suspicious behavior!) and he's hovering to you on the next moment, looking uncertain and carrying the faint hum of bright electricity with him. Today the both of you will visit his planet, and you have no idea what's in store for you. It's best not to think about it, really.

Hovering past the scratched beat mesa is always cause for pondering, and this time is no exception. The unbearable heat of his land always turns your thoughts more sluggish, your mood more volatile, and wondering about everyone else at the meteor like this is never good for you. You inwardly shake these thoughts away, but then you're thinking about the first time the two of you visited this place, and it isn't much better. He had snickered as he looked at the giant broken record, and you were left to wonder why. Apparently it all had to do with how he had worn the very same symbol on his shirt before he became poufy and feathery, and how ironic it was that it was the same thing that reset your session. On your way to his apartment, you remember this kind of stuff but manage to stash it away quickly, filed under 'dangerous thoughts' as well.

You get there much more easily than to your house, for the few monsters that stand in your way, towering over the pools of lava below, fall under the first blow of your hammer. You fly in through the window, like any coolkid would, but before he allows you into his room, he hovers awkwardly before the door in the corridor, wings spread, eyes behind the impregnable shades trailing to the ground at your feet.

"Hmm, so yeah…" he starts, and you have to stifle a giggle at how nervous he sounds, because this feels really serious, and you are surely curious." Color me surprised, there is actually a reason why we dragged our asses here, and I know you're going to flip your shit over this but it's no big deal, okay? It really wasn't. Just... enjoy it I guess."

He turns to open the door, his tail twisting elegantly behind him, and you clumsily follow him in. You have been here once or twice before, quick visits to retrieve stray packets of Doritos, his Bro's X-Box and its glitchy games, but it still makes you smirk at how stupid this room his. There are still old photographs of him hanging from the cord, cinderblocks supporting his computer, a toilet right in the middle of the room and his bed made from two bare mattresses on top of each other. There's the turntables that have given him his name, surprisingly spotless even with all the mess, and right beside them there is a brand new piano. Wait, what.

You have to double-check to make sure, but indeed there is a piano next to the turntables, and it's your piano, except it's not broken and it looks so new. Just looking at it you're reminded of an image from a long time ago, of your dad smoking his pipe and sitting before it, expertly playing on it, and a tiny you sat on one of his legs, giggling loudly, clumsy miniscule hands stomping the keys on the far right end. The thought is endearing, and this gesture is priceless, but the pushed down thoughts at the back of your mind are swarming back in, and John, your dad is gone now and you could not save him, and it's been almost one year already and you never stopped to think just how much you really miss him.

You're saved from a flood of denial and depression when he speaks, awkwardly clearing his throat beside the piano, facing you. "Yeah, Jade did most of the work with her space thing, so please don't go all hyper on me, okay? Both of us knew how much you missed this thing and hey, I guess we can jam together now, right?"

You take a moment to just find yourself in this mess, but you're nodding quite enthusiastically on the next, walking to him and hugging him suddenly, friendleader mode slowly taking over once more. He is surprised by the gesture, but doesn't let go, gently patting your back with unsure hands. You pull away to look up at him, and you feel yourself grinning as you say, "Shut up, Dave. Both of you are pretty awesome for doing this. Thank you!"

You let go of him completely to sit in front of the piano, testing the keys with a lot more expertise than before, in your memory. Your expression must have shifted because he is looking at you with a hint of concern, but you dismiss it, focusing on playing something familiar and ordinary, a melody unattached to a past you are not ready to deal with just yet, and you force a giggle as you look back at him. "Come on, dude. Let's jam!"

He promptly agrees, moving over to the turntables, and the idle songs you create together are simple and careless, they don't make you think about anything but the peace and domesticality of this moment, and that's really all you want right now. You're thankful for this too. But the day doesn't end without you getting overwhelmed again, and it's unsurprisingly all his fault once more.

It happens while he's letting you mess around with the turntables too, and you're mindlessly scratching and moving and pressing ever little button you can find. Apparently one of them unlocks the saveslots of projects he is working on (or was), and before you know it you're listening to revamped versions of the Ghostbusters theme, and How Do I Live, and I Don't Wanna Miss A Thing. These songs have been rebuilt from scratch, and his personal touch is in every note, and you can even notice how he's smuggled a few of your piano samples in this too. Before you can dabble more on these, he is shuffling you away from his gear and mumbling loudly to himself, cursing at how poorly hidden everything was and you weren't supposed to see it.

"I was supposed to have them ready for your birthday, but it got so shitty and I obviously didn't give them to you. It doesn't really matter anymore, anyway."

You grimace in outrage, "What. No, Dave! Look, I'm sorry I kinda ruined the surprise, but this sounds really awesome so far. You can... continue anyway?"

But he is relentless, and the same natural sadness to him returns once more. He is slouching in his spot, fingers moving over the buttons and the records, blocking you from everything inside the machinery. He sighs when he's done, steering you away. "John, I mean it. It doesn't matter. It's up to him now, not me."

And to that you really don't have an answer. But once again he's managed to pierce through all the beliefs you've nurtured about Dave Strider throughout the years, and he's left you hanging onto something new and scary but also amazing. And you really don't know what to do with that.

That "night", while you're tucked between Jade's ears and his wings, you dream, but this is no regular, non-consequential dream. Like you have done a few times before, you cross a dream bubble during your slumber, and once again it's not exactly what you had expected, or what you wanted.

Your uncertain, faltering steps take you closer and closer to the one place Dave won't let you visit in your planet, but you feel like no danger could befall you here, and you hear faint echoes of a familiar song drifting in from your denizen's palace. The jagged building looks tiny from a distance, but as you slowly step closer, you realize how wrong you have been, the wind swaying in between the pillars and the ominous music flowing out making you feel insignificant before this towering structure.

You make your way inside, and down, and the more you walk the more the familiarity of the music upsets you. You barely acknowledge your surroundings, disturbed by the latent feeling of déjà vu coming from splintered timelines, and after you descend a long spiral staircase, you come face to face to the origin of the music.

This hall is immense, seemingly rising forever, stretching forever, and a myriad of thick pipes channel their way through the deep blue walls. At the very end of the hall, leaning into the wall and creeping all the way to the ceiling, is a pipe organ, and the song playing from it booms through the air, fast paced and utterly happy (a contrast to the rest of this place). But you know well enough not to trust this façade, for as you walk forward, the person sitting before the pipe organ is you.

Dave had been right about one thing: your death hadn't been pretty. You can still see how charred his Wise Guy suit is, and how the smoke drifts from the ruined fabric. You can see how he looks just a little smaller than you, younger than you, more immaterial, more fragile. But as you awkwardly move to sit beside him, catching him by surprise and making him stop, you see how his face is just the same as yours, wide-eyed bubbly, and you're pretty sure his death didn't leave him this way and this is probably just another example of your innate denial.

He is surprised but his expression soon shifts to mild disappointment, a sad smirk curving his mouth as he goes back to playing something quieter. You sit there and consider him in silence, wondering just why the hell your dreams have brought you here today, and you fill with guilt as he speaks. "Okay, I gotta admit this is a little weird. I wasn't expecting to meet you, but I guess I can be glad about seeing you well."

You idly tug at the blue fabric of your god tier pajamas, the color matching that of his eyes - your eyes - and you struggle with words before attempting a reply. "I... Urgh, I'm sorry we were so gullible. I'm sorry that you have to be alone now. I'm..." you take a deep breath, "I'm sorry about Dave."

You sheepishly look at the keyboard before you, but he is having none of it. He giggles and places a hand on your shoulder, making you look back at him. "Haha, what? Nope, I don't want you to come here for a guilt trip! I wasn't expecting you, but we can totally make this work. You know, once you're dead, stuff really stops having the same meaning as before. You stop thinking about what is good to you, and more about what kind of trouble you left for those who stayed behind..." His feeble happy demeanor soon vanishes at this, and the sad smirk returns. You now notice how frail your mask of indifference and denial really is, and seeing this before you scares you so, so much.

"I haven't been completely alone here, anyway..." he continues, brushing a long finger over an ivory key."I've seen... Dad. I've met an alien ghost girl called Vriska too! And I've seen many, many Daves. They told me what happened to mine... And I guess I understand why he wouldn't want to see me again. I fucked everything up for him."

And the guilt returns anyway, because you finally understand the repercussions of selfishly keeping him with you, and how everything will only make you hurt even more in the end. At this moment, his comment about Vriska registers, but you're pushing it far down now. You feel like you owe him an explanation, and you do just that, "I'm so sorry for not letting him come, dude... He... actually can't wait to meet you... even if he's totally nervous about it. He... kinda blames himself for what happened, which is dumb because it really was...-"

"No one's fault!" he pipes in, and he's wide-eyed again, interrupting your grim train of thought. "Well, I am happy to know that at least. And please, it's okay, I really can't complain. I think both if you can use whatever time you still have before he... huh, IF he decides to... you know... visit me here. And new people will always show up while I wait... Also..." and he's placing both hands back on the keyboard, grinning as if inviting you to do the same. "I don't want to waste this opportunity."

And finally knowing exactly what he means, you scurry to position your hands on the left to his, soon enough the two pairs moving with a coordination known only to the both of you.

The melody created by four hands and two of you is one you've known for years, you've practiced to perfection, the first song you played on your birthday - in disguise - almost one year ago. You had always wanted to play it like this with someone, and you even learned how to play both the left and the right parts of it, but no one ever wanted to join you. Feeling him coax the piano beside you, letting the synchrony of your motions course through you and allowing this moment of introspection to overwhelm you, makes you relax in ways you never found anywhere else. The pipe organ roars with each note, filling the palace with sound and with you, but in the middle of this peaceful ritual, you still find time to talk with each other.

You think and speak of your dad, of your friends, of the aliens and alternates of you you'll be meeting. You think and speak of Dave, and how he is at the same time your best friend and the most frustrating person you know, the one who gave you a reason to be here and the one who helped you get here, you think of how long he's been doing these little things for you and of how both you and this John have missed it, but not anymore. You laugh and giggle and confide in each other, and this is the best conversation you've ever had, and the easiest, but also the most painful.

You carry on, having only the other for company in this desolate place, and when the last notes echo through the pipes, you feel the first signs of waking blurring the edges of your vision. He seems to notice this too, for he has turned to you now, a huge grin making him look genuinely happy. You grin back and he's suddenly hugging you - something you know you still do - and as he holds you, he whispers softly next to your ear. "You look a whole lot different from me, and it's not the extra year, or the new neat pjs. I am pretty sure I know what it is, though. Remember that everyone needs to break sometimes. And you are lucky, because you'll have someone to hold you then."

These words hit you somewhere intimate and dangerous, and you almost lose it right there. But he pulls away fast enough, and he's waving at you, and before you know it, you are waking up in Dave's arms instead.

He will never know why you're squeezing him so hard, face buried deep in bright orange feathers, and how close to ugly, treacherous tears you are right now. He'll never know how everything is spinning inside your head, how everything he's told you is brought to the surface, and how you're done with hiding from it, from everything. He does look confused and pained, but soon all this shall pass as well. You tell him you want to teach him to play the piano, and after a moment of surprise, he nods and smirks at you.

Later that day, you return to his planet and your piano, and you have him sit his sprite tail next to you, and fumble clumsily with the keys. You play, and you patiently struggle to teach him, and you in the meanwhile you unrestrainedly think of the memories of your father, of how thankful you are for Dave's presence, of how you fear Vriska is dead.

You look at him, and tenderness washes over you, not hidden from him anymore. You're pretty sure so much will happen before he achieves even minor synch with your playing, till he is in tune with your thoughts, but you sure hope there is still time for that before the end.


End file.
